A match made in hell (SP//Dip)

Stupid Mortal

Damien's POV
I went on a mission. I was determined to find the bitch that had made Phillip's life so miserable. There had been pictures and clues in his journal, locations, photos, addresses.

Many of these contributed to how easy it was to find her. Within a day of returning to the mortal world, I had found the monster, passed out on her sofa, probably drunk. I didn't immediately go for her though, instead choosing to search the place, looking for Phillip's room.

It was almost the exact same as the room in Hell, but someone had clearly been in the room after he died. Clothes were thrown, records smashed, books ripped. The entire room had been annihilated. I sighed and closed the door, heading back down the stairs. If his room in Hell was just a replicated version, there would be nothing new.

Instead, I took to staring at the passed out alchie on the sofa. I saw Phillip's journal on the ground, a few pages torn out. I took it, tucking the pages in and gently placing the book in my pocket for safe keeping. I looked around the house curiously. Similarly to Phillip's hut in Hell, there were no pictures or decorations, however, a wall had been scribbled over, the words "Sorry" and "fuck" written obsessively in marker.

Evening approached, she remained passed out. I sighed and leant against the wall. Perhaps she had died. Hopefully she had, it would be better than what I had in store for her.

But she stirred on the sofa, rolling off and sitting up. Her eyes locked onto mine almost instantly.

"W-WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" She yelled, grabbing an empty bottle and smashing it on the TV stand. I watched her scrabble away from me, fear and rage shining in her eyes. I said nothing, stepping slowly towards her.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

I crouched over her, easily tackling the bottle from her and slinging it across the room. She watched it crash into a wall and disintegrate into a million shards. Her eyes met mine again, this time full of pure fear.

"W-WHAT DO YOU WANT? I HAVEN'T GOT ANYTHING VALUABLE!" She pleaded, trying to move away from me. Her back hit a wall as I towered over her.

"Does the name Phillip ring any bells?" I asked. My voice was silky smooth, echoing throughout the house even though I barely spoke above a whisper.

She nodded, at a loss for words. Her eyes flickered towards where his journal had been a few hours ago.

"Eyes on me." I instructed, holding her chin, "Tell me what you did to him."

She shook her head, muttering under her breath, "This isn't real, I'm hallucinating, it's just a dream."

I gripped her chin tighter, glaring at her.

"It is no dream. Now tell me what you did to him."

She gulped, her eyes shining as tears welled.

"I-I didn't mean to it wa-"

"Don't. We both know it was intentional. Tell me what you did."

"I used to beat him. And scorn him." She whispered, her voice dripping with fear.

"Mhm. And what else?"

"A-and I used to force him to sleep outside."

"Why was that?"

"Because he was... he was gay."

"Correct. And tell me, why did you think that was acceptable." I asked, my grip on her jaw tightening. It must hurt for her to talk, but if she didn't, she would be in for much worse.

"I-I don't know, can you please let go of my jaw-"

"You know. It'd be such a shame to leave without a parting gift. Here's mine, to you."

I squeezed her jaw hard, dislocating it. I held her hand, pulling each of her joints apart, snapping each of her pathetic mortal bones. I smiled as she whispered and begged, her eyes dripping tears.

"If you ever lay a finger on another person, child or animal, I will be back. And you won't get off as easily as a few broken bones."

She nodded, crying desperately as I walked away. I left her door open, as a nice gesture. After all, how would she get to a hospital if she couldn't open the door?

"Stupid mortal." I muttered, trekking back to Hell. I took the long way, needing time to clear my head. I also needed to get my stories straight. I couldn't just tell Phillip I'd been torturing his previous foster mother. He would faint. Pathetic.

I don't even know why I did it. I hated Phillip. Sure, I called him Phillip in my head, and I let him stay at my house, and I shared my story and explained the ropes of Hell and brought him clothes and lent him clothes, but I still hated him.

He had not changed one bit since we were alive. It was quite sad really. Maybe if he remembered me, I would hate him slightly less.

I shook my head determinedly. He was fairly settled in now. I was going to be brutal again. I refuse to be nice for one foolish idiot.

One foolish, cute, lovely, idiot.